Good is relative for this former bartender-turned-philosopher. A year ago, Adam and his wife, Whitney, got an explanation for the headaches and dizziness that occasionally left him weak and disoriented.

It was cancer, more specifically glioblastoma multiforme. He had a brain tumor about the size of a baseball. It's an aggressive, incurable cancer.

It's a grim prognosis, he acknowledges. But the former Libertine and Bar Rev barman is armed with intellectual curiosity, the love of family and the prayers and hope of a wider community. He is using whatever time he has to learn as much as he can about his illness, to advocate for better care for patients and, perhaps most importantly, to help those who love him deal with the idea of losing him.

A second chance at love

Buy Photo

Adam Hayden poses with his family, his wife Whitney, holding Noah, and Isaac, left in his lap, and Gideon, right in his lap, at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme.(Photo: Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar)

Adam Hayden and Whitney Roehling met in church. He was 12; she was 13. He was there because his father, the Rev. Marc Hayden, had been appointed pastor at Friedens United Church of Christ on the south side, the same church Whitney and her family attended.

They were middle-school sweethearts, but in high school, the two went their separate ways, or as Whitney puts it: "We took a long break."

Fifteen years later, they met again — in the same church, and this time the romance would stick. Married for seven years, the couple has three little boys, ages 5, 3 and 1. All have biblical names — Isaac, Noah and Gideon.

The boys would see their dad in the hospital after he underwent surgery to remove 95 percent of the malignant mass in his brain a year ago. They saw the 40 staples in his shaved head, how he struggled to move his left arm and leg, which were temporarily paralyzed. Adam and Whitney told the boys that Daddy had "boo boos on his brain" when he came home a month later in a wheelchair.

One year later

Hayden is now 10 months into a grueling 12-month chemo cycle. He talks about the science of cancer and how he wants to write a book or get a paper published in a respected scientific journal.

That's the philosopher nerd in him, says the guy with a master's degree in the field. He gets up every day and dives into medical news about his illness, digesting all of it with his morning coffee before his rambunctious sons demand attention.

Research, writing and public speaking are forms of therapy for him, as important as the radiation and chemotherapy the doctors have ordered.

As the drugs try to keep the cancer at bay, Hayden tries to keep his brain engaged in the fight.

He has approached his cancer as a scientist, not just as a coping mechanism, but also because that's how his mind works.

He began blogging, first about research and studies that previously could be found only in scientific journals. He wanted to make the information accessible to other patients and caregivers. He did not want to be a "cancer mascot," he said, fearing he would be stripped of his identity.

Eventually, he opened up, using his story to help others. He began sharing his struggles, talking about the loss of his independence, the fatigue, the fear.

"I often forget, and this lesson is lost on many, that I have brain damage. It is with deep, deep breaths of relief that I am yet to experience any outward-facing language or higher-level cognitive deficits, but when I am critical of myself, when I am frustrated with my inability to effortlessly walk, feel, sense or shift weight or pivot toward my left side; when I am depressed to wake up with yet another headache, when I have to cancel dinner with friends because of fatigue, I remind myself that, after all, I do have brain damage."

"I've got a bit of a temper that I don't remember having before," he said, as his wife listened nearby. "That's probably the most difficult thing for Whitney and I to have to work through. But she gives me a lot of grace. She'll say, 'Adam, go lie down for a while.' And I know to take her lead."

Hayden has spoken to medical students at Marian University and IU School of Medicine about patient education and advocacy. He is energized by these experiences and his work with the National Brain Tumor Society.

He and Whitney recently returned from Washington, D.C., with a group from the Brain Tumor Society to lobby for increased funding for the National Institutes of Health and passage of the STAR Act, which would advance pediatric cancer research and treatment.

On Sunday evening, he will give a talk at Friedens United Church of Christ titled "Inside My Head." The public is welcome.

"My aim in this talk is to help empower people to be their own advocates, and not necessarily to live without fear, but to acknowledge our fear and to learn to live with it," he said.

"That is how I have dealt with my terrible diagnosis,. Death and dying, specifically, end-of-life planning and medical advanced directives are taboo topics. I speak openly about approaching my own mortality."

Adam Hayden plays with his sons, Gideon, foreground, and Noah at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden hangs out with his family at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. His three sons are Gideon, from left, Isaac, and Noah. His wife, behind him, is Whitney. Adam was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden now wears bracelets that exemplify the support he and his family have received as he lives with brain cancer. He shows the bracelets at his Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. His employer, Briljent, started the Adam Strong bracelets. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden shows one of his journals at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme, and writes about it, even the day after brain surgery. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden talks with his sons Isaac, foreground, and Noah, in his lap, at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden shows one of his journals at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme, and writes about it, even the day after brain surgery. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden poses with his family, his wife Whitney, holding Noah, and Isaac, left in his lap, and Gideon, right in his lap, at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Adam Hayden plays with his sons Gideon, left, Isaac, right, and Noah, not pictured, at their Greenwood home, Tuesday, June 6, 2017. He was diagnosed a year ago with brain cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. Kelly Wilkinson/IndyStar

Interested in this topic? You may also want to view these photo galleries:

Whitney, who works weekends as an occupational therapist at Eskenazi Health, counts on family and friends to help keep their busy household humming.

The family has been wrapped in the arms of their church, whose members have walked this journey with them, raising money, providing meals and holding prayer vigils.

They are grateful beyond words. But faith is a tricky thing.

"We're both scientifically minded," Whitney said. "We got the diagnosis, we know the statistics, we know what the end is. We sort of accepted that and said, 'What can we do now?' "

The answer: "Let's make the best of every day."

So on this day, Isaac is getting registered for kindergarten, Noah is having a heart-to-heart with his dad about a spider he saw in the yard, and Gideon is running around with his favorite Thomas the Tank book while Whitney struggles to keep both shoes on his tiny feet. Later, they'll meet with a family therapist to talk about ways to navigate the days ahead.

While new cancer treatments are being developed and miracles can happen, "we don't always all get a miracle," Whitney said. "Not that I don't think it's possible, but I'm not going to rest my faith on whether Adam gets a miracle or not. We have each other today, we have a community that supports us, and I have faith that no matter what happens, we're going to be OK."

For Adam, his faith is in relationships. "When it all comes down to it, when you're on your deathbed, what's going to matter most are the relationships you've built and the community you're a part of. What God cares about is not that you worship him, but that you are good to the rest of creation.

"If you understand your significance within that huge framework, you can liberate yourself from worrying too much about whether you should have been praying more. You can think more about, 'how do I use this experience for good?' "

He's discovered things about himself, too. "I have a real grit and a fight in me that I did not know I had. I have found that, dammit, I am strong."

He encourages people to be open to transformation through a process that looks bad, whether that be divorce, job loss or an illness.

For now, his kids haven't asked too many hard questions, "but we've not used the cancer word," Adam said. "We're not afraid of it, but you want to be careful how many doors you open."

He imagines Isaac (his thinker), Noah (his risk-taker) and Gideon (his comedian) as grown men of integrity. He trusts that if he is not there to guide them, the couple's extended families will pick up the mantle. And he hopes the boys come to know him not by letters or videos he leaves behind, but by the stories that are passed along, that are told around the dinner table in years to come.

"The stories that exaggerate and make me seem larger than life — because in every tall tale is a nugget of truth, and the deeper you dig, you understand that nugget is the core of what is most important."

Inside My Head

On Sunday night (June 11), Adam Hayden will deliver a public talk at his father's church. "Inside My Head: The Personal Story of My Walk with Brain Cancer" begins at 6 p.m. in the community center of the church, 8300 S. Meridian St.

He will talk about adjusting to a new lifestyle punctuated by toxic therapies and navigating difficult conversations with family and friends, including when to embrace treatment and when to decline it to protect other values, like living a more normal life with the time that is left, he said.